The Quest for Lost Virtues
by Brian
Summary: 67 years after the death of Wagnard. A new power has risen to Marmo. Join Darek, Bedwyr, Kemen, Sable, Jade, and Kiall as they discover the secrets behind the source of Lodosses binds of war.


  
In the beginning the Giant Atsuki came forth. As Giant of Forceria his life had   
come and gone, but with his last breath he breathed life into the lonely world of Forceria.   
His body formed the land and his blood filled the seas. His angry cries as he fell, became   
the winds and storms. From his failing heart came flame that brought the fires of life.  
"When the world had thus formed, the gods were born from the lost remains of the dead   
giant's body. From his right leg came Myrii, the God of War. From his left leg formed   
Cha Za, the God of Trade. From his Head came Rada, the God of Wisdom. From his body came   
Marfa, the Goddess of Creation. The evil God of Darkness, Falaris came from his right arm,   
and from his left came Falis, the righteous God of Light. With the arrival of the gods,   
and the miracles they performed, the people of Forceria worshiped the god; and prospered   
in their presence. But as the Gods took people to themselves as followers and disciples,   
many began to fight for the belief of the people, latter resulting in feats of godly   
competition. The gods of light and darkness battled amongst one another, taking up arms in   
a war for the planet.   
In the final battle between the survivors, Marfa, the Mother-Goddess of Creation, and   
Kardis, the malevolent Goddess of Destruction echoed to the ends of the earth. At the end   
of their battle the two goddesses destroyed each other in mutual annihilation. With her   
dying breath Kardis cursed the land with her fury. Marfa, with the last of her power   
burning away, separated the cursed land into an island, thus protecting the mainland of   
Alecrast. The dark remnant soul of Kardis died upon the broken land that would later be   
known as Marmo. Marfa again in defense of the land separated that land from the rest of   
the island. Her power now gone she died in the center of the island, later to be the holy   
city of Roid. Many thousand years later the spirits of the goddess still watch over the   
lands which they once fought over in life. Even in death the two goddesses greatly   
influenced the fate of the island that it's inhabitance called Lodoss, the accursed   
island." -Record of Lodoss War, Manga  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
The darkness was unsettling. The night seemed as a traveler; his limbs a graceful   
fog, his round face glowing with a ghostly white light, his cloak of dark clouds wafting   
in the swift storm winds as he walked. Indeed the darkness seemed like that of an object   
rather than the lack of light. There were no stars. The only resistance to the unstoppable   
nothingness that seemed to swallow the entire plain was the ghostly white light orb that   
lay shrouded in the thick pregnant clouds that moved with an amazing swiftness through the   
well-concealed sky. The moon was screened behind the heavily overcast sky loomed like a   
distance planet, contained forever in an endless winter.  
The Marmo steppes are a frightful land even through broad day, thought Altius   
peering at the well-crafted window, his entire expression surrounded with a haunting look   
of dread. And this damned darkness doesn't bring it ant closer to my liking. His hands   
trembled like a tree's leaves in a gale wind as he clutched them firmly together, hoping   
to restrain their terribly obvious movement. His attempt was in utter vane.  
Hundreds of miles to the west in the Valis courtroom he had felt confident that   
his task would be a simple one: discuss the possibilities of a treaty with the Marmo prince   
Druiss the first, act in a courteous manner in his presence, and hope for the best of   
results. Now that he was a door away from the new prince's counsel room; his ripe   
confidence had quickly faltered into fear. Altius had attempted numerous occasions during   
his two-day wait to picture the new prince as a kind, generous, and peace-loving   
individual. Each time the foul history of the island Marmo granting him no avail, though   
he knew it was not his misdeed that had led to his failure.  
For years the island of Marmo had brought nothing save horrific atrocities and   
incredible suffering for the entirety of Lodoss. With every new dictator the island of   
Marmo saw came a new war, new horrors, and more death the rest of the kingdoms of Lodoss.   
With every addition to the lineage of the dark kingdom came a new and terrible war. War,   
thought Altius solemnly. How could three simple letters describe such an enormous depth of   
agony? With three letters came death, famine, destruction, regret, tears, and countless   
outer man crafted tragedies. Altius closed is faintly wrinkled eyelids, unconsciously   
recalling the painful memory of his father. As he left home when Altius was but a boy, his   
destination being the battlefield, he had released the most wrenching, the most   
heartshattering falsehood Altius's ears had ever perceived: "I shall return." The words   
wounded Altius once again, bringing new pain to his soul. But he had long since recover   
from the deep sorrows that occurred so many decades ago.  
He removed his tall hat and ran his fingers through what remained of his wispy gray   
hair that formed a half halo around his head. His cranium was slick with salty perspiration.   
A good friend that had observed him in court had once told him that his bald head showed a   
glare when he became uneasy. He quickly replaced his herald's hat and turned his gave on   
the great silver plated throne room doors. He noticed his reflection in the shining metal,   
a picture of uneasiness, as well as two strongly built guards posted stiffly on either end   
of the broad doors. Both stood like wooden stakes hammered into the hard stone crafted floor,   
both carried some sort of cruelly shaped weapon which Altius couldn't properly identify;   
both stared into his eyes, their own eyes filled with a suddle malevolence. Altius felt   
like a swine as the shadow of a raised cleaver fell across his neckline, the dark barbaric   
eyes blazing their fury into his own. He quickly returned to the scene as the dark window,   
suppressing a shallow shudder as he felt his fears renewed. Moment's later Altius's fears   
were unleashed as well as his relief, the great silver doors opened. Altius suddenly felt   
physically petrified, his legs refused to yield to his commands as he fought to maintain   
his footing.  
"His highness will see you now," barked a fierce looking, thin framed man as he   
appeared behind the parting doors. His overall appearance, along with the sleek black hair   
and the slim figure, reminded Altius quite accurately as a jackal, not forgetting to regard   
the fact that he indeed sounded to the like of one. This thought, though a small form of   
humor lightened Altius's uneasiness.  
Altius bowed deeply, once nearly losing his balance out of agitation, unable to make   
eye contact with the man out of both fear and the desperate need to hide it. The "jackal"   
spun swiftly in an about face and proceeded swiftly across the red carpeting that led a   
straight and narrowly threw the two rows of columns. Holding his breath, Altius marched   
forward.  
The throne room was enormous, far more so than he could have easily expected. Nearly   
twenty columns, all crafted of gray marble, surrounding the long carpet than led to the   
throne, too far ahead for Altius's aged eyes to make out further more than a blend of dull   
colors. As he continued through the grove of marble, a touch hanging from each column, the   
herald stared up, his eyes seeming to mist over in wonder. The entire ceiling was an   
enormous work of art. He studied the paintings, eyes intent on them as he proceeded down   
the crimson path. He noticed a wonderfully painted figure, garbed in white garments and   
silver glaring armor, the likeness of Falis, the greatly loved god of light. Far off ahead   
of the ground he stood over he vaguely perceived a massive image of a tall broad figure   
cloaked in shadow, this was Falaris, as beautifully painted as the image of Falis. After   
some brief consideration, Altius determined the entire ceiling to be a complete likeness   
of the War of the Gods. Altius's jaw went limp. I wonder how long such a masterpiece had   
must of taken, he thought. Not only was the work very fine but the image utterly enormous.   
He had never thought the Marmo to be of any artisan's talent. No barbarian could have hand   
crafted such a realm of beauty. Altius consider that he could have been wrong about this   
treaty agreement, his fear waned, if thought but a tinge.  
Turning his attention back to the throne, he came face to face with a living god.   
Upon the throne sat Druiss. His entire six feet, perhaps more, of height was draped in black   
forged plate armor, combined with a precise fitting mixture of leather and a thick fur cloak.   
The torchlight compounding to be bright as a day's end, the flickering firelight danced   
across his dark face. His black gloved hand looked capable of crushing realms. His chest   
plate bore three small sheaths, the blades of three thin daggers concealed inside. An   
overwhelmingly and disturbing, almost demonic air seemed to radiate from his face, baring   
sharp brows, a hawkish nose, and dark eyes: dark and focused. The uniform of a Marmo Knight   
sat with him on the throne encircling him; adding to his air of unnatural malevolence. He   
said nothing as Altius approached, his dark eyes sizing the aged herald, as a predator sized   
up his prey.  
Altius bowed, "Greetings your highness, "he began, successfully hiding the waver he   
was expecting to hear, "my king and master Etoh brings congratulations on your rise to power   
over your kingdom. As a sign of his felicitation, king Etoh has sent with me several gifts,   
as well a offer of peace between our to great nations."  
Druiss nodded, "I thank you," he started, his voice smooth, deep, and resonant,   
"Altius is your name?"  
"Yes, my lord."  
"I would indeed like to go over the possibilities of a treaty with you, Altius."  
"As you wish my lord," Altius said producing a scroll from the inner compartment of   
his long blue herald's cloak.  
"However, I would like to meet with your king in person, once I am truly king." He   
paused, noting the heralds sudden surprise, "Tell me Altius, is it true that the people of   
Valis believe I shall rise like that of my ancestors?"  
"A trifle rumor I assure you, your highness," Altius had answered immediately.  
"Ah well, allow me to assure you and your king that I shall act on my own accord,   
not by another's."   
The old man's mood had lighten greatly, his face appear as if he had just dropped a   
heavy load he had been carrying for days. "King Etoh will be happy to hear this from you."   
The dark, gloomy expression had fully faded.  
Druiss smiled, his face looking almost menacing in the dancing torchlight. Altius   
could not tell if this was intentional. "Then you should return to him. Leave the scroll   
with me."  
Altius flashed a look of surprise at the Marmo prince, but was in no way prepared to   
question the prince's power. Bowing he replied, "As you wish."  
"My servants will escort you," said Druiss, "I would be very much obliged if you and   
your men shall stay in my guest's quarters for the night."  
"Very kind of you. I'm sure we shall enjoy our stay," Altius had hidden the relief   
he felt; fearing that it might have projected through his voice.  
Druiss motioned and several lady-servants came form the right of the throne, one of   
them retrieved the scroll from the retreating herald and brought it to Druiss. The others   
escorted Altius form the room. Bowing to the prince of darkness the women presented the   
scroll; Druiss accepted it, waving her away. He then gestured to a man on his left, rising   
to meet him. "Astral Kardis," said Druiss, "come."  
The man who Druiss had called before him was dark skinned, obviously of the   
barbarian clans of Lodoss. He wore a black cloak and was dressed finely, unusual for a   
barbarian. His bald head naked, and his thin bony frame poking through his thin cloak.   
He nodded as the prince's orders and followed Druiss as he made his way to his chamber rooms   
behind the throne room.  
Druiss offered the thin man a seat, which he took without a word. Druiss did not   
take his eyes from him. "Have the goblin lords agreed to my decision." A candle burned   
brightly on the table to the princes left, casting steady light throughout the room. The   
prince raised his hand to rest on the table.   
"A few think you to be rash, " he answered in a voice that seemed to scratch the   
sides of the clansman's throat. "Gorgrial and Hortain have prepared plan to withdraw from   
Salibad, but I think the rest to be under your word."  
He turned his attention toward the candle, "And the barbarian clans?" Druiss held   
the end of the scroll over the lit candle's flames. The scroll was caught in the miniature   
blaze, the shadows trembling in the turbulent light.   
Astral smiled, "They embrace you as one of their own."  
"Excellent," Druiss smiled, "I entrust your students shall provide my armies with   
magical support?" He threw the now blazing scroll to the icy cold stone laid floor, his   
black leather boot promptly crushing it to the ground. The light of the room again became   
calm, unmoving, dead.  
"Yes my King."  
"King." He laughed cruel, so coldly the candle was near doused.  
  



End file.
